More Than ......

the big brown jug I always keep full of flowers on my table
digging my toes deeper into the sand because it's hot on the surface
tearing a page out of a notebook perfectly
flowers in my hair
tracing the whiskers on my stuffed mouse with my finger
flexing my toes just because I can
toast
my favorite silver spoon with the engraved A on it
all my daydreams about where the spoon came from
the first chapter of 'Rez's and my novel
cool guacamole on a hot rolled taco
seeing shades of my brother in my cousin's son
the smell of old books
gingerbread cookies
the fact that Mau uses the drawer of my easel as his bed
the echo of my footsteps in the cool emptiness of the train station downtown
postcards
the butterfly migration
paper lanterns
the way flowers look as if they are painted brushstrokes even in real life
free night and weekend minutes
leftover chicken
watching Mick slide down the bars of his cage and catching himself with his beak on the food dish
Aimee Mann, Abra Moore and Sarah McLaughlin put together
Bjork, even
the fact that someone glued pennies to the sidewalk near my house
the fact that someone actually pried some of them up
the way creamer changes coffee
making my grocery list
making avocado soup
sewing buttons back on
toys from the quarter machines
the tea aisle
standing on the bottom bookshelf to reach the books on the top shelf, glancing around guiltily for the bookstore employees
sliding in my socks on the kitchen floor
turkey and avocado on sourdough
finding words or handprints in the sidewalk
popscicles
letters in my mailbox
licking my fingers
fireworks
and coffee, even this morning.